Uzumaki Naruto Winter's Moon
by HaPeCe
Summary: Trained by a swordsman since five, Naruto runs away to Kirigakure. There he falls in love, kills, trains, meets people and conspires against the Mizukage and-is that Uchiha Madara? How does schizophrenia fit into the place? Bloodline!Naruto, HakuNaru
1. Into the mist

**Uzumaki Naruto****; ****Winter's Moon **

**Charter 1; Into the mist**

* * *

"No" Was the answer that ten years old Uzumaki got. It definitely wasn't the response he was looking for.

"But shishou…!" Naruto tried again. But of course like most of his tries, this one had little to no success.

"Naruto…" Hiko Seijuro fourteenth started with a stern and serious voice "… Listen carefully because I'm going to say this only once."

The young boy's attention was on his master the moment the word 'Naruto' came out of his teacher's mouth. The fact that he used the blonde's first name, second being Kenshin, and that he hadn't mention just how great his teachings and pottery were, was something unexpected and unnerving.

"You are young, Naruto." His mentor continued, "You're young and stupid. Do you know just how violent the world out there is? Are you really ready to kill for someone's sake? Scratch that, are you ready to kill? I'm going to answer that; No. No you are not." The last sentence was said barely above whisper, but every word echoed in corners of his small mind bringing up memories. Memories long forgotten. "You have already seen death, I know. I have given you your second name that day, you remember don't you? The smell of blood, the empty, absent look in their eyes?"

He remembered. He remembered everything, every detail; every drop of the blood, every swing of the sword, every breath of those who weren't amongst living since that day. But the Hiten Mitsurugi-Ryu, the sword style he has been learning ever since than, was more than just swinging a sword. It was a philosophy. 'To protect those who protection need'. And now, in the times of civil war, when he would be able to help oppressed, his shishou didn't allow it. It was something he couldn't understand. For him defending the innocent was something worth every sacrifice. It was his purpose in life.

And for the moment, when he looked into the brown eyes of the towering man above him, from that moment, he already knew. He knew that he would run away next morning.

"But there are hundreds of people dying right now! I can't just stand here doing nothing!" The sun-kissed boy yelled. His eyes burning with passion.

"There are people dying everyday. And what difference in the war would one child make? You're not even a man yet. You would be another nameless shinobi." Seijuro answered with quite a lot of anger in his voice. It was evident that his patience was running thin. "I'm going for some sake" He announced after turning around.

And like that their argument was closed.

It was weird, from Naruto's point of view, to watch his sensei walking away. The white cloak tugging slowly behind the powerfully built back, long black hair, reaching past his shoulders, neatly tied in a single ponytail were swishing wildly in the wind. The sword still in the right hand of the only living master of Hiten Mitsurugi-Ryu, and as Naruto dryly noticed, the bottle of sake in the left. It was truly a nice view – something that he would remember forever – because that would be the last time he'd be seeing his shishou in a long time.

But he had to think about the task at hand. The civil war in Kirikagure would not wait and he had a lot of packing to do.

* * *

It was an early morning and thirty-eight old sword master was watching as his student jumped through the trees – away from the old house that he was currently occupying. The sun was just rising above the horizon, bringing warmth and happiness over the majority. He was not the majority.

It was still cold outside. The wind was shrieking loudly, as if disapproving with his decision. But he knew that there was nothing to stop Uzumaki Naruto now. From now on, his apprentice would have to walk alone.

"Sayonara… Baka no deshi." Whispered Hiko Seijuro with a small smile, taking a sip of his favourite alcohol.

* * *

Uzumaki Naruto was walking. And walking. And he continued to do so for a long time. It was not surprising – the land of water was an island and one would have to find a dock first. And to find a port you need to be near the sea. And so he walked down the road – through the country of fire, observing the trees and flora around him. It was fascinating, from his point of view. Most of his life he lived on a rocky hill in old and abandoned house. But to see so much colours and shapes – all in one place. It was fascinating.

It was too warm, Naruto determined. Even in his outfit consisting of; white hakama and obi, dark blue haori as well as white tabi socks and zori…it was simply too warm. He wasn't used to this kind of weather. Not one bit. His scarf, although dark red and short, wasn't helping either. At least he had a straw hat covering his whisker-marked face, and shadowing his vibrant, blue eyes. His blond hair were also hidden under the hat and two swords (both sheathed) were visible on his side. One was a long, very dark blue katana. It was a simple, plain katana – albeit a little too long for him – but he already carried it with a grace that would make many sword masters envy. The other however was a blade more preferred by him. It was another katana, though shorter then the first one. The whole blade (along with sheath) was snow-white and there was a ribbon coming from the pommel. Fuyutsuki (winter's moon) was the name he had given to the blade. It was truly a wonderful sword. A sword that would change the future events many times.

The weather was nice. Even if he wasn't used to such climates, Naruto couldn't enjoy the day more. He felt at ease. He felt free. It was bizarre, all the emotions he experienced after leaving his father-like figure. But now, he could choose his own path. 'Let the bird find its way' he thought.

The life wasn't so bad after all.

* * *

The village wasn't big. No, it was a small village, with small boats, small houses and, as surprising as it was, Naruto came up with a brilliant statement. 'It _really_ is a small town'. The thing is that it wasn't as bad as he made many think. It was good, normal-sized village, but because the blonde haven't seen any other villages, he could not compare this one. 'It's made of wood…' – was another sharp observation of a young swordsman – '… But that's not unexpected seeing as trees are rather common in this area. Hmmm… Suspicious'. Yes. Uzumaki Naruto had a lot to learn.

What was he doing now? Well, currently he was in a small restaurant, drinking cup of water. To his great dismay they didn't sell him any sake. A small restaurant it was, but he had to hand it to the owner – the

place was cosy and welcoming.

"Here's your bill Naruto-san." Soft voice of a young waitress (no older then fifteen) brought him out of his musings. She was a nice person and she made an effort to learn every client's name. It was a nice sight for his young eyes. But he couldn't care less about her name.

"Aaaa…" The boy acknowledged her softly. He left soon after.

People were watching him. They looked at him like at some kind of royalty. The girls (the ones near his age that is) were giggling lightly (giggles muffled by their hands) and blushing vaguely, some going as far as to point a finger at him. The rest (the adults and older teenagers) were giving him polite nods and appraising gazes. Was it because of how he looked? Because he was a swordsman? Or was it because most could tell he wasn't from here? 'Very suspicious'.

"Leave me alone!" A cry was like a cold bucket. A wake up call.

He took off, running at speeds that many would envy. 'There!' There was a group of people looking at something. Naruto realized after a second that a cry mentioned earlier was coming from that exact place.

"I didn't do anything!" Another shout.

But the light-coloured boy wasn't about to barge in without some knowledge on his future opponent. 'Whosoever wishes to know about the world must learn about it in its particular details. And you should know by now, that the world is nothing more then one big war.' His shishou used to say. His master was an intelligent man and a powerful warrior.

That's why he watched the whole thing from the roof, concealed in shadows. A teenager by the name of Hibiki _(echo)_, average looking, young man of about sixteen was laying on the ground. His hair were the colour of was dark wood and his nose was very eagle-like. The thugs, there were three of them, were nothing special, barely a mare brutes with no brains (at least that was what he had gathered). One was carrying a knife and that was about it.

The tallest of the thugs, and coincidently the one with a knife, did something unforeseen by the future-to-be hero. He took a huge swing; the time was slowing down, his big arms moving slowly in an arc. Naruto, of course, was able to read the attackers motive. He was about to slash at Hibiki. The teenager's expression changed to one of horror, his face already paler then usually. Suddenly when knife was about an inch from the brown haired boy's neck…

…Clang! The white blade of Fuyutsuki stopped the knife with scaring ease. Snow-white ribbon was moving about in the wind, making a flapping sound. And there not half meter away Uzumaki Naruto was standing with his straw hat on. He was still gripping the hilt of his best friend, lightly and with seemingly no pressure at all. They were partners – Fuyutsuki and the blonde. They took care of each other.

The moment the straw-hat wearing boy blocked the attack many things happened. The crowed gasped slightly in surprise and murmurs followed soon after.

Hibiki – the teenager Naruto saved – also gasped. His eyes were those of admiration, awe and great gratitude. He was saved.

"You're really stupid, aren't you?" The moment was broken when young swordsman spoke. It was supposed to be a trash-talk… But he really didn't have much experience with that kind of thing. Not one bit.

"Who do you think you are, eh?!" It was one of thugs. He settled in a fighting stance and although swordsman had no idea what particular style it was, he knew one thing. It had a few flows. Gangster number 2, was about to attack the blond. But stopped as the one holding a knife (thug number 1) backed up a bit.

"Guys! Attack on three! One!" mugger number one shouted. 'Are they aiming for a surprise attack?' though Naruto wryly. He was still standing with his sword in the same place – which made the almost-adult boy on the ground awfully uncomfortable. The katana was centimetres from his neck, after all.

"Two!" The thugs 'prepared' and settled in their separate stances. From what fox-boy saw it would be piece of cake… 'Or maybe a cup of sake? Hmmm… Saaaakeee…' He DID have some serious problems.

"Three!" And they charged.

"I just hate to be right…" Uzumaki said not so quietly, adding a shake of a head.

As soon Naruto was done he vanished. Not even moving he simply vanished with a 'shuun' sound, leaving quite confused crowd. Not to mention thugs.

Thump! Thump! Thump!

The hooligans all hit the ground – unconscious. And the silence soon followed, for a second, before Naruto reappeared in his previous place.

"What the hell?!" exclaimed Hibiki. By now it was probably on everyone's mind.

"Hmmm?" Asked the blonde. Sometimes it was better to play stupid. After all it's not often you see a ten year old beating down a handful of thugs without breaking a sweat.

"How did you do that?!" again, he exclaimed adding a wave of arms to show his frustration and interest.

"Do what?" Naruto wasn't fazed one bit. After all it wouldn't do to show how strong he actually was. Playing stupid was the only option. He started to walk through the crowd. Less and less were people interested.

"You blocked the guy's attack, and then you just disappeared and then you...!" He continued for about ten minutes, all the while looking at fox-boy's face and making peculiar signs with his hands. By the end of ten minutes Hibiki was walking backwards, and people were looking at them (more at him then Naruto). And as a tenth minute ended Uzumaki figured he should do something about their current situation.

"You're walking backwards…" the child said.

"I know. That's so I can see your face better!" Brown-haired man exclaimed as if using the best excuse in the world.

"You DO realize you're walking backwards?" Young fox asked again. Maybe this guy had some kind of ADHD?

"Hai! Hai!" The teen was like a walking recorder that just couldn't stop making sounds. Naruto's ears were killing him.

"You know what you look like?" student of Hiten Mitsurugi-Ryu asked. His voice was his usual quiet but one who knew him long enough could tell a difference in this voice. It had a bit of mirth in to it.

"Like what? Like what?!" was the answer, full of enthusiasm. He was moderately easy to predict, this Hibiki guy.

"…Like an idiot walking backwards."

It was nice to make friends, Naruto concluded.

* * *

"That's your house?" It was quite a surprise when, now properly introduced Hibiki Akihiko, allowed the blonde to stay in his family house as a reword for saving him. It was not something that he expected and if all people were so kind, it'd be fairly easy for him to survive.

The house was big. Really big. From what he could see it was a long and broad more so then high. It was made of wood, and one could see that it was probably based on old Japanese houses. The walls were thin – Naruto noticed – and had many different designs on them. The abode was also very traditional, with two bells hanging in front of the doors. It looked somewhat like a shrine but maybe it was just a fashion or something… He truly had no idea.

"Yep! That's my house! Impressed?" The youngest male in Akihiko family answered. He was an energetic person, with very bright attitude. He was also dense. But young swordsman liked this Hibiki person. Okay, maybe he was too loud sometimes, and maybe he did talk too much and he was stupid… So what? It was refreshing to look at the teen from Naruto's point of view. A shinobi was to always keep his cool and Uzumaki most definitely did.

"You're so amazed by my beautiful home that you can't even talk?! Yatta!" And now Hibiki was dancing in circles. Also, the blonde didn't mention that the brown haired almost-man made it his personal mission to make an impression on the whiskered boy. In reality he didn't even care…

"Nope" answered Naruto, in an 'it's-the-most-obvious-thing-in-the-world' tone of voice. Of course, he WAS impressed but he needed to keep his calm. Plus it was enjoyable to make fun of his new friend.

And now a depressed Akihiko and stoic Uzumaki stood in front of the doors. It was fascinating to witness just how fast Hibiki could change his moods. One second he's pleased the next one he's all-out unhappy.

Soon the door opened to reveal a young girl (which, as Naruto assumed was thirteen), with dazzling smile on her face. Her eyes were dark-brown, and her hair were black – tucked neatly behind her ears. She looked at the taller of the two (Hibiki) and then her gaze fell down to the more composed. Her eyes widened slightly as she looked over Uzumaki. His left hand was resting on swords and his right hand was hanging limply at the side – holding his straw hat. The girl stared at his face, amazed, looking at his well-defined cheeks and whisker-like-marks (three on each cheek – She noted), his full lips, his cute blue eyes… And with that red scarf! He looked like some kind of noble! A female Akihiko had to admit that the boy (even if tad too young) possessed some sort of boyish charm. And he looked so sweet with those whisker-marks…

"Are you done staring?" Naruto asked. He certainly didn't like it when people were looking at him. It was really uncomfortable thing, impolite too.

She blushed. And then she blushed some more. After that, she stuttered. She took quick glance at the blonde who was watching her every move with a raised eyebrow. Only now, did she notice the gorgeous blond hair of his, which were falling slightly – giving much needed shadow to his eyes.

"Oh, yeah! Introductions are in order!" it was her idiot of an older brother that brought her down from heaven of thoughts.

"This" he pointed a thumb at Naruto "is Uzumaki Naruto-san. He saved me from some muggers." He stopped for a moment and then looked at the girl.

"And this is my younger sister Susumu Akihiko." She bowed slightly to the younger boy, who in question did the same.

"It is pleasure to meet you." She said after a while letting the two in the house. The inside of the abode was nice and it had many paintings. The family was probably an artistic one.

"Will you stay for a dinner, Naruto-san?" The blonde shoot a quick look at Hibiki – who in turn nodded.

"Hibiki here offered me your house as a place to stay in during the night. So if it won't cause much of a trou…" He was interrupted by Susumu who waved him off.

"Nonsense! There's plenty of space, and our parents would be glad to hear that Yakuza people are gone now. The least we can do is to offer a shelter for a night." She was jumping inside by now. 'To think that Hibiki is actually useful for once…'

"I'll show you around then!" And so a male Akihiko and young blonde took off.

The house was very well decorated, as Naruto noted. The walls, wooden walls to be specific, were painted in different patterns, and he often passed various vases and other beautifications. It was a tidy and clean residence, every ounce of a dust cleaned of, if he'd have to guess, a week ago. His conclusion? They were probably wealthy, because he doubted that a family like that could keep this place clean.

His room was nice. It wasn't big but he didn't need a big area. For him it was perfect. Small, clean, with only the necessary things in it. He had a lot of time until the dinner so he slowly unsealed some things and soon, the blond started to read. Sealing. Fuuin were a very interesting subject. As he learned from Seijuro Hiko it became apparent that the subject of seals was nearly untouched. Mainly, as his teacher pointed out, it was because they weren't useful at combat very much and most of shinobi simply didn't know how they worked. It was understandable. It WAS a complicated matter, as Uzumaki found out. He had read many books, and even with his Shishou's help, he knew pretty much nothing about how they worked. Of course, he knew many seals but what's the point in knowing how to do something when you don't now how it works? It was frustrating but this particular topic interested him, more so then others.

Taijutsu? He was good at it. Mainly because of his speed, his form wasn't bad either. In his opinion it was brute's way of dealing with problems. Genjutsu? His control was better then his mentor's was (although you could reason that it was his Kekkei genkai) and that said something. But he didn't use them much… Too complicated. Ninjutsu? Yeah, he did like using, creating and learning ninjutsu. It was his forte, and he mastered the art to such a degree that he could do most of his techniques with one-handed seals. Ha! He could do some ninjutsu without using hand seals at all. He was proud of many things but he had yet to finish his training. His swordplay. Kenjutsu. It was a sore chapter in his short book. Hiten Mitsurugi-Ryu was, at least according to his master, was invincible. God-like speed, awesome precision and ability to read your opponent's movements all combined with artistic, acrobatic-like movements, that's what the style was about. Kenjutsu was something blonde loved. Yet he had not finished training in it. He had run away.

Loud knocking was what he heard after coming down to the planet called Earth.

"Naruto-san?! The dinner is ready!" It was Susumu. Quickly, looking at his watch he noticed what hour it was. 'Is it three o'clock already?' It was.

The fox-boy took both of his swords, and after tucking them under his obi, he walked to the dining room. It was an average space with a few pillows to sit on and a small table with various meals already on it. Susumu was already there – seating on her pillow and waiting patiently. Hibiki was yet to be seen, but he figured that it won't take long for him to join as well. There was, however, one more person sitting in the room.

A chill run down his spine. His right hand already resting on the hilt of his favourite sword. He tensed. The blonde did not have many close-death situations, but he could tell when a person he was looking at was powerful or not. This person was. Swordsman could tell. It was like a sixth sense, a voice whispering to his ear.

Samurai-in-training was looking at the old man. He was very aged, 75 – Naruto estimated – but the age did not cover his wisdom nor did it conceal his skill. The way he moved, the way his eyes wondered towards Naruto, for only two seconds.

"Ohayo, Naruto-kun!" said the aged man. The enthusiasm was faked, that much was obvious. The elderly man, who by now waved at him energetically, had a wrinkled face and grey, long hair that reached pass his shoulders. His eyes also, were grey.

"You know my name. It's only polite to introduce yourself as well." He demanded an answer. In reality he was scared. The men's aura was so powerful it was becoming frightening. But showing fear to his potential enemy wasn't exactly on his list of priorities.

"Masaru. That's what they call me." Answered the mature men. Uzumaki was paying attention now. As far as he could tell what the old guy said was true. His pupils didn't change size and he did not move his gaze in any direction excluding him. Maybe he was just an old retired shinobi, who wished only to live life of harmony. Or maybe he was just a very good liar.

"Very well then." And they started to eat. It was quiet for a long time with both males eating silently and Susumu looking worriedly from one to another. She was ignored through the whole ordeal and even now both warriors weren't even paying attention. Her current 'crush' as she called the blond wasn't even paying attention to her. It was unorthodox. She hardly knew the boy, who presumably, was three years younger then her and yet, she felt so affected. And why was her grandpa acting so bizarre? Usually he was calm, collected and above all intelligent. Now he looked like a senile, old man who was too vigorous for his own good. She was worried.

"It's a rare site, nowadays, to see a swordsman at such a young age." The old man stated. Looking over whiskered boy. He made a mistake however.

"I am no swordsman." This particular reply was a short one. That surprised her. She assumed he was some kind of fighter. He carried two swords, he was dressed like all these samurais, long time ago. He even carried himself with an air of awareness' like he could tell what you'll do next or what you're thinking about. Not unlike the other person sitting by the table.

"Who are you then, boy?" Her grandfather asked. His deep voice booming throughout the room. He wasn't angry with the much younger male, she could tell, but his tone suggested that one could hide nothing from him. He was a ninja in his young days. A good one at that. And, as she remembered him saying, all good ninja should know what the truth was and what was not.

"I am who I am." replied Naruto.

And they ate in silence again. It was unnerving that neither her 'crush' nor her grandfather seemed affected by this little dialogue. Young boy was ignoring both of them, while eating slowly. His chopsticks picking up pieces of meat and rice with grace that would make many nobles envy. It was truly amazing that he was able to do all this without even opening his eyes.

"Mist. That's where you're heading." Masaru assured himself aloud. He was pleased with himself for figuring this out. It wasn't that hard, considering that the boy was looking very samurai-like. Only those of Mist would have such a traditional swordsman in between their ranks. He turned his questioning gaze to Uzumaki.

At that Naruto nodded silently with his eyes still closed. He didn't have any obligation to tell the man anything. But then again it's not like the men would try to stop him…

"I can't let you go, young man." Everything went quiet for a few seconds. Very uncomfortable silence soon followed. The blonde boy opened his eyes; sky-blues meeting greyish-whites. Both studied the counterpart for a few seconds.

"You can't let me go?" Asked Naruto with somewhat annoyed tone of voice. It was obvious that he didn't like what the older man was saying.

"You'll die." The white-haired stated as if it was the most obvious thing in the world. 'It would be shame', he thought with some distaste 'for a young boy like you to die on a battlefield.'

"Yes, I am aware of the risks. The war is something terrible, I know, but if Kiri will not withstand

and Kaguya clan will come victorious… It would result in another Great Shinobi War." One could barely hear the last part of the sentence.

Was that really a possible outcome? He doubted that the clan would be able to obliterate the village but Kaguyas were not to be laughed at. It was one of the biggest clans in the world; their skills in Taijutsu and Kenjutsu were unmatched.

The long haired Masaru looked at Naruto. One would take it as a look of an understanding. It was not. It went far deeper then that. The young boy was going to fight in battles; during war. War was far worse then 'terrible'. Even now in his old days, nightmares of encounters long buried under the blanket of time were resurrected. He was young then, when the war started, maybe eighteen? This boy was not even twelve. Would he survive? Both mentally and physically? He had no clue.

"I'll tell you what." The white-haired started. "We're going to spar and if I win, you'll have to stay here. If I won't I'll teach you a certain jutsu I know… Call it a bet." Masaru thought he did the right thing. He would be able to tell just how strong the kid is and the possibility of Naruto winning the spar was unlikely. And if he did it would prove his skill well enough. So caught up in his thoughts, he was, he did not consider his old age.

Young samurai seemed to consider this for a moment; opting to close his eyes and lay his chopsticks down. The man, he contemplated, was strong. But he was also old. In terms of experience, he would loose. Masaru-san was experienced and wise. He was not. He had no uncertainty that the man (who was now sitting in front of him) was part of the second Great Shinobi War. He on the other hand never fought with anyone except his sensei. He did know many jutsu and he had knowledge of many subjects. But he was not wise. He lacked experience. But then again, he was not as capable as he once was. It was evident, that even if experienced, the old man was lacking the physical part to match him in the spar. Stakes were high but what was life without the risks?

"Aaaaa…" Escaped Naruto's lips, "I accept your bet." He still sported his apathetic expression. It was usual. He rarely smiled these days. He rarely smiled at all.

"We will start after diner then." Answered Masaru. And so they continued to eat in silence. Hibiki, as young samurai noticed, was nowhere in sight. He paid it no mind, maybe he was out with some friends? He reasoned.

The spar, that's what was on Naruto's mind. He'd have to win. There was no other option then to win, because he knew that he would keep his word. He always kept his word. It was foolish of him, he summed up. Yes, a new jutsu would be nice. But what if he would loose? He couldn't. He would not. Already, he thought about tactics to be used. 'Masaru.' He reflected 'He's experienced shinobi. There's very high possibility that he would recognize and dispel genjutsu without mush of a hassle. I don't know much about him. I should probably attack him head on, first, just to see how strong and fast he is… It would help in gauging his reflexes as well. Taijutsu or kenjutsu? I'm better at kenjutsu… Hmmmm. Yes, Frontal assault using kenjutsu. Then what? His stamina would be on pair with me, seeing as he's old and I'm young. He's more experienced so he would have me figured out faster. I should probably hide somewhere… Kirigakure no Jutsu would do. Yes…' And so his train of thoughts continued on the upcoming battle.

They were currently standing in the clearing. Both Naruto and Masaru were looking at each other. It was a small clearing surrounded by trees and at the side there was a small body of water that could be barely called a lake. Still, Uzumaki was grateful that it was there. They were alone. Slowly, he watched his opponent for the slightest movements that could give him away. The old man – as he noticed – was standing still – about ten meters away from him, a few kunai and shuriken punches on his legs. His eyes were closed and his face could not be described as anything but calm. It would be nice, the blonde thought, to end the 'spar' quickly, but he knew that the challenger was too experienced to make a mistake of underestimating him.

The wind howled – it was near evening – and the sun was slowly hiding behind the horizon. Red and pink rays of sunlight illuminated the sky in a marvellous display of colours as the wind shrieked, blowing some leaves from the tree nearby. The aged man attacked. He was faster then he anticipated but still fox-boy managed to duck under the kunai.

Cling! The sound of kunai meeting sword resonated throughout the clearing. Both exchanged blows, and every time one could hear that sound as black-coloured steel of kunai blocked by the white and incredibly sharp edge of a sword. And after a few minutes everything stopped as kunai was once again blocked by a katana. Naruto – for his own record - could feel his arms slowly giving way to the more powerful ones of his foe. Shinobi in front of him – even in his age – was stronger then himself. He was not, however, faster. With a familiar tingling in his legs, he pushed as much chakra in his legs as he could, and bending his knees slightly the blonde pushed off the ground.

Ha appeared not a second later, on the tree branch 25 meters away. Masaru, in the meantime stumbled forwards, not foreseeing sudden disappearance. He quickly regained his balance and scanned throughout the flora of the forest.

Everything was silent for a moment until barely hearable whisper ringed all the way through the ears of the old man.

"Ninpou; Kirigakure no Jutsu" the voice of a ten year old boy sounded incredibly deep, as a very thick fog covered the area. The aged man could not see a thing – he could hardly see his arms in the mist – but with his experience the mist was no problem. Gathering chakra to his hands he waved them a few times and the vapour in around him lessened considerably.

Nothing happened, as Naruto quietly analysed every aspect of their 'spar'. They were evenly matched, he realized, in Taijutsu – or in his case Kenjutsu. The old man Masaru was smart. He knew that a shorter weapon was better for a defence and so he used a kunai. He was slower then Uzumaki, but then many were – and the grey-haired man used his experience to a very irritating advantage. The older man was also stronger then the blonde and his reflexes even if a bit dulled by the time - were still there. A conclusion of an only-taijutsu battle would probably result in a tie. That's why he created the mist. For him to win – he had to control the fight. As far as he knew there was no counter for this particular jutsu – and even if somewhat cancelled out – it did not cost him much of a chakra.

He took out a clay-brown bottle from behind his dark-blue haori. Slowly, making three one-handed seals starting with Snake and ending with Tiger he thought 'Mizu Bunshin no Jutsu'. The water rose from the container and two copies of Naruto appeared – not a sound was made. A small smile graced Uzumaki's lips.

The old man was still standing – not making sound for the last five minutes. It could be that the young blond shinobi simply couldn't find him in the thick mist – but he doubted it. From what he already knew the child he was fighting with right now was more skilled then some twice his age. The worst thing was that constant waiting. It was something very unnerving – at least according to Masaru. He was on the edge, constantly, during these five minutes and yet he could not detect any movement or hear any sound. It was taking a toll on him.

The old man felt a sharp pain in his back and something hoisted him in the air. He turned in the mid-air, and from his position he could recognize Naruto smiling slightly and standing on the ground. As soon as he hit the ground, however, a loud 'pop' sound was made as he disappeared in the cloud of smoke.

Child's expression changed into that of surprise and without even a sound he felt something wrap around his legs. He tried to jump but it was already too late as he felt his knees – they were already underground. Soon only his head was left and old men jumped from beneath the earth. He smiled gently – that is until the head he was smiling to turned into the water. With a wet 'splash' the clone was no more and everything was soundless again.

The pain was what Masaru felt. Something stabbed him – piercing his stomach. For a moment Naruto thought he went too far, but abandoned this idea as fast as it came. 'It was too easy' he considered this possibility as well, but after counting three seconds off there was nothing to do anymore.

"Sorry, Masaru-san" The old man turned his head slightly and smiled sadly.

Boom. A great explosion graced the clearing – destroying trees and the already damaged landscape (after all they were using taijutsu for the first ten minutes, or so). A heat wave descended upon the scenery burning, obliterating and blowing everything in its path just as an enemy's army would. The mist cleared slowly and the dust settled too. The constant ringing could not be prevented concluded the retired shinobi. He was standing on (now destroyed) tree that was barley hidden by the near bushes. After very intriguing encounter with the blond – and by that he meant their taijutsu battle – he created two Kage Bunshin and one Bunshin Daibakuha. He currently possessed all the memories from his clones.

A single, injured body laid lightly on water – in the lake. Small waves, created by an explosion were slightly caressing the body of a boy – not older then ten – with ragged clothes and burns on his upper arms. A white sword was still held tightly in the blonde's hand. The face of the boy was underwater and only his hair were visible. As the old man stepped onto the lake and sat next to the body he smiled bitterly.

"You've done well my boy" He muttered in between breaths. He – for once – was very tired and could barely stand. After a while of consideration he sat down on the water – using precise amount of chakra not to wet his clothes. Before he knew what was happening, however, water started to rise and without a second he was sitting in the middle of water spare. Oxygen, Masaru dully noticed, was something not granted in his little prison. He tried to move but to his great dismay, the ability to do so was not granted, also.

"Suiton: Suiro no Jutsu" It was a whisper of a blonde boy who was currently residing behind his back. He was positioned in the same way for a few seconds now, looking at the 'other', more damaged blond. In question the injured one turned into ice, slowly – piece after piece. They started to loose their form and were drowning rather fast, as well. 'Bunshin made of ice?' It was astonishing – in white-haired man's opinion. It was something unheard of. The child – he concluded – had to be some kind of prodigy. Clones were not something easy to do. It took a lot of skill and chakra to make a solid copy.

"You've done well too…" Naruto said after awhile - the prison made of water had already collapsed. "…old man." The last part was clearly forced a bit, but an ex-shinobi noticed a small smile that played on Uzumaki's lips.

"It seems that you've won." Masaru replied. He was tired, very much so, and by now he could barely speak – his lungs working busily – making up for the temporary lack of oxygen. His semi-wrinkled face was deformed slightly and there were a few cuts bleeding, not dangerously, but annoyingly so.

"Aaaaa" His younger opponent was also tired. Chest of the younger boy was rising and falling as he breathed heavily. But the blonde was standing while he was not. And like that both relaxed for a while.

"We should probably go back… It's getting dark." Suggested retired ninja. It was getting dark; dark clouds were already flowing lazily in the sky, the wind wailed with unrealistic passion and little salty-tasting droplets were descending, without much hurry, aimlessly.

"Aaaaa"

* * *

On their way back both Naruto, and Masaru talked about Kiri and the current situation. It appeared that Mist was in the middle of the civil war – caused mainly by Kaguya clan. Not many knew just why Kaguya decided to rebel against their home village but many simply stated that it was for the power. It was foolish of them – Uzumaki thought. They were powerful clan, yes, but one's power could only go that far. It was also said that many other shinobi abandoned Mizukage, and united with the traitorous clan. The Mist was falling apart – and if someone didn't attach it together other hidden villages might join. And so Third Great Shinobi War may perhaps begin.

Centred in the Water country, hidden mist was an island in an archipelago and due to that used mainly water Jutsu. The water country was now divided into two parts; an East – the part in which most of Kaguyas and other rebels fled and a West; That's were the rest of 'Bloody Mist' and other loyal ninjas are residing.

Naruto was happy he won the bet. In all truth, Masaru-san was very concerned about him and his future and when asked why, he answered; 'Murdering is not little boy's job'. It confused him greatly, really. Didn't most future-to-be-ninja finish shinobi academy at the age of twelve? He was ten and in a few months of time he'd be eleven. Of course – the blonde didn't kill yet – but he was fairly sure that his first kill would be during protecting someone.

Masaru-san was very generous. Young Uzumaki got quite a few gifts after they returned; some of which weren't from the old man. It was nice, he summarised, and the list of 'parting presents' was fairly big as well; The white-haired man gave him a few fire based techniques – 'for variety' – and a detailed map of Water country. They were really useful souvenirs – especially the map – which he didn't have until now. A little older girl then him – Hibiki's sister – Susumu gave him something he couldn't figure out;

"It's an empty diary" she said with a bit of a pride in her voice "I made it myself!" She finished enthusiastically, very much so like her older brother (was it some kind of family trait?), and pumped her fist into the air. It was a beautiful book – young samurai noticed – with milk-white pages that flowed through his fingers as if made of silk. The pages – and there were many of them – had a nice smell to them, that of some kind of flower he couldn't identify yet. But that wasn't what intrigued him. The cover of the book was of light-pink colour and in the middle of it stood he, himself, in his traditional samurai pose – with left hand on his sword, and his right holding the straw hat. It was amazing how much shadows and details there was (she even drew his whisker-marks). When asked 'why?' She replied happily.

"So when you come back and give me this, I'll be able to know a little more about you." She ruffled his hair, at the end, with a playful smirk adoring her pale face. This, obviously made him growl a little (No one, NO ONE, ever ruffled his hair!), and for a moment he loosed his calm façade. The rest of the evening was spend relatively peacefully with an annoying Hibiki and a bossy Susumu.

* * *

It was an early morning again. Young shinobi noticed dully that he was more often then not running away in the mornings. It was almost three o'clock, but the sun was rising already, dominating clouds of different sizes and shapes and the stars of night were no more visible on the kingdom called sky. That was why he liked to start the day in the morning. The view was simply breathtaking.

"Leaving already?" It was that old jounin again. He was a nice person but a bit too knowledgeable for Naruto's tastes. The old man gave him the sum of eight scrolls with different techniques and money 'for later' as well and that's not including the map. He scanned most of the scrolls by now and he studied the map carefully also.

"Aaaa…" He liked it here; there was no doubt about that. But he had to keep the list of priorities; first he had to help with the civil war. He sacrificed too much to back off now. White-haired man was now leaning against the wall, looking at him with an emotion he couldn't really name. Was it pride?

"Good luck then…" Said the long haired man.

He opened the door and went out smelling the new day's aroma. And so he left putting his straw hat on, facing the sunrise. 'How cliché…' He thought. Not once did he turned back, after all, he had a ship to catch.

* * *

What was it that made him so depressed? He really had no idea… Was it the shady coloured boat, swimming in the same pattern for hours and hours to no end; maybe the darkening skies on the horizon; a clear sign of mysterious times that had yet to come; or perhaps it was that compared to his recently bright past, the future was simply too dull. Waves were aggressively attacking, restlessly tearing down bits of portside. Swishing, again and again. This sound, it made him mad.

Things were so complicated now. Now that he made the choice, the one that probably changed his life forever. He didn't know why, he didn't know how. The cold air howled and swished – together with waves – they played the music. Soft humming of the engine; synchronised with occasional and distant thunder; and the breeze twisted around all those present – it played solo; the clouds were responsible for the light effects. But they were dark, mysterious even. Maybe they'll play another song?

He took a small note from under his haori. Seals. He marvelled for a second just how valuable and amazing they could be when in right hands. A lovely sensation reached his fingers; one he always welcomed. Chakra. It was the feeling of chakra racing through the thick coils inside of him; as if cold water making his hair on the neck stand up – but this time in pleasure. A 'poof' later he had his empty diary and a black pen in his hands.

He hesitated for a moment. And soon the dark ink touched white pages; his diary, once pure was now tainted with black ink.

'_I'm going to __sail the oceans of time; back, where as a child of mare five I had no purpose and no meaning. Like a wave without a shore, I was crashing through places and people but never really belonging anywhere, or to anyone. I had no parents. I had no relatives. I had no one. I was no one. _

_I was a slave. I can hardly remember that times now – they weren't nice – and I did a good job of forgetting them. What I do remember is an event that changed my life; something that haunts me during nights. A memory that cannot be forgotten.'_

He stopped and looked back at his 'book'. There's no title – he noticed, although a bit too late. His writing was exquisite; every curve – complete and precise – just like his swordsmanship. Calligraphy and swordsmanship were both connected very closely. Both were arts; and while in case of a sword it was an art of killing, brush had another purpose. It did not mean, however, that they weren't alike. Both had to be beautiful, efficient and fast. Detailed, but not overly so, and accurate. He started to write again.

'_It was an early evening in the spring – the sun was just settling down. It was warm but the cool breeze reminded everyone that winter ended not so long ago. I was walking, along with another group of slaves, down the small hill. It was a site to behold, and our caravan stopped for a while if only to watch the view. They were nice – that much I recall. All of them, even our masters. They didn't beat us and one could even say they cared. _

_Almost half an hour went like this, peacefully. It looked astonishing, and everything looked as if painted by the greatest artist in the world, Kami himself. The colours were mending together – making this stunning scenery even more surreal. And then the killing began._

_Just like that without much of a reason shouts emitted from everywhere. The sounds of metal meeting flesh. The echo of bodies ripped in two. "Run! Run for your lives!" Loud, ear-splitting screams of women. "Don't! Please don't!" They continued from everywhere and I, not knowing what to do, just stood there; hysterically turning around looking for the attackers. _

_In the middle of all that; I stood pathetically, not moving a muscle. My eyes were already watered, and I could hear my heartbeat; my heartbeat and nothing else. It was amazing how scared I was. My body wasn't reacting at my commands and I couldn't even think clearly... I saw people running about, lost in their own feelings just like me – only they were running, avoiding, protecting. And the only colour was red. _

_And I stood pathetically. Questions were running through my mind, like worker-bees soaring; 'What's happening?', 'What should I do?' I asked myself. Nobody answered. _

_And I did nothing. Questions were left unanswered but my survival instincts kicked in. My legs were starting to shift, if only a little. 'Move!' I yelled at my legs; and they did slowly. And as the time passed I yelled; "Faster! Faster!" And they did. Adrenaline already running through me, giving me power that I never knew I possessed. _

_No longer, I stood pitifully. I was running with all the strength my young body possessed. I knew. I knew that this may be the last day of my life. By now, the smell was unbearable; I could barely breathe. My lungs were burning but I tried to pay no notice. Tears, running down my whisker-marked cheeks didn't help either. My vision was starting to become blurry. My arms were hurting. I could not think – lack of oxygen getting to my brain._

_I stopped at once. My body not used to such a long and fast run. I was tired and sick. My stomach started to hurt and I had to sit down. All the time I asked myself the same question, over and over. 'Why?' It was then that I noticed how quiet it was._

_I was in a forest. I was running so fast that I didn't even notice my surroundings. My legs were still hurting and my belly wasn't better at all. But the nice cool breeze and a pleasant smell of forest calmed me a bit. I closed my eyes, relaxing myself, and as I laid down on a soft grass my thoughts turned towards attackers of our camp. _

_I left them to die. _

_But what could I do? There was no other choice. Green grass soothed my mind. There was no other choice. I looked at my hands. There was no other choice. Red liquid consumed my tiny fists, coating them in black and red. There was no other choice. I looked at my crimson reflection – it grinned madly, like a predator, like death. And then I heard a shout._

"_Hey, there's one more here!"'_

And just like that Uzumaki Naruto stopped. It was a painful memory and the book he was about to write would not be a happy one. He needed a time to cool down, to leave a world of past he temporary occupied. So caught up in his thoughts he was that he didn't notice the mist that was slowly creping in the general direction of the ship. Only in the last moment did he noted where he was. His throat became suspiciously dry and he murmured one word under his now uneven breath.

"Finally"


	2. Colder then ice

**Uzumaki Naruto****; ****Winter's Moon **

**Charter 2; Colder then ice**

* * *

'_I had no choice. The objective was clear.'_

The room was cold. Cold and dark. But the young boy was not scared. He wasn't even nervous. He was cold too.

The moment he came in, a man with night-black hair and eyes welcomed him with a nod. Naruto didn't respond.

Black eyes of the shinobi behind the desk watched him closely. They watched his every move. They watched him with such intensity that the sun would hide under the horizon while gazed at. The blue eyes stared back with equal power.

"I have a mission for you Kenshin…" Mizukage-sama was the one to break the ice.

There was a nod of acknowledgment.

'_I was to kill a family of Kaguya supporters. Father, mother and two children. I was to kill them and I didn't even know why.'_

It was raining. The rain was not something surprising in Kiri – it rained frequently, every few hours. Lightning though, lightning was a bad omen in the village hidden in mist. A brown haired girl of about fourteen looked through the window of a small apartment. Her eyes were like an open book. One could read her every emotion just by a few looks. The blond boy could do it exceptionally well. They were friends.

"Matte… Kenshin… You shouldn't go, don't go." Her voice was quiet. Quiet and warm.

He barely acknowledged her with a nod. He was sitting in the dark corner of a room – on the opposite site of her. His eyes were closed. His mind was also.

"I have a bad feeling about it…" She tried to convince him to stay. She tried to prove him that more killing would do no good. She did all she could. But how could she help him? When she screamed, he didn't listen. When she touched, he didn't feel.

He stood up. His swords were once again behind his milk-white zori. He put on big dark cloak that covered him from nose to feet. Then his straw-hat. Then he looked at her with those cold blue eyes of his. Her own brown ones seemed to be like small trees compared to enormous, everlasting blue sky or a raging and great ocean. He looked straight into her eyes and for a moment she thought that there's a bit of sorrow in them. But then he turned around. Only a few words left his mouth. And after closing the doors, lightning crossed the dark firmament, lightening a room a little bit.

She was looking at the doors. Nothing changed. Except tears in her tree-like, brown eyes. And those few words that echoed in the room.

'If I'd listen to her then, things could happen differently. If I'd listen to her, all could end better. But I didn't.'

It was still raining. It was raining and the streets were empty that night. They usually were. Not many citizens of mist were stupid enough to leave their homes during the night. Not since the war had started.

Everyone was sleeping. Everyone except a shadow that moved soundlessly throughout the village jumping from roof to roof. His legs moved with such speed that even the most experienced shinobi, would have problems with tracking them. Suddenly the part of the roof he was running on ended. With one last move, with a bit of concentration, his right leg touched the edge, showing white socks and typical samurai sandals. With that one move he disappeared.

He appeared not a second later on a roof good twenty meters away. A deadly shadow continued his run.

'_Whispers. Whispers and eyes. Blood red eyes.'_

He stopped.

The wind stopped as well. And so did rain. Everything stopped. Almost everything.

"You can come out now." A shadow did not yell – he whispered. His voice was young and inexperienced, but there was something in that voice that could make one's mind go blank. Blank with fear.

They came out. There were two of them; both in black cloaks similar to him, both had white hair, both had green eyes; both had two red dots above their eyes, and both were Kaguyas. Both were dead the moment they blocked his path.

"You won't go further." One of them said. He didn't even realize how wrong he was. His voice was deep and sure. It was voice of a dead.

The shadow did not respond. His muscles were already tense and prepared. His feet were now enjoying the cold feeling of his chakra. His hands too were busy – going through the hand seals under the black covers of cloak. His enemies looked into his eyes – blue and intense, eyes of predator. Eyes shadowed by his black cloak. They watched his eyes and that was the first and last mistake for one of them. Because the moment the young boy disappeared it was already too late.

The blonde appeared in front of the taller one. His opponent tried to jump back. He couldn't. Hs legs were frozen to the roof. And by the time he comprehended that fact, his head wasn't intact to the rest of his body.

Naruto's second enemy died soon after. The overwhelming fear, that took over his mind and body when he looked into those blue eyes. He panicked. His partner was killed in a matter of seconds with such a frightening ease… He panicked. He tried to free himself from the ice that glued him to the roof like a fly to a spider web. He panicked. And that was his second mistake. He didn't have time to make third. And then everything came back to normal. The wind was blowing. It was raining.

The snow-white blade was red with blood. The black cloak was not. It was truly amazing how much the blond hair of youth contrasted with the eternal blackness of his cloak. His eyes matched, thought. They matched perfectly.

And then the shadow said a few words, a few words that would change the world's history.

'_Fear. Fear and hair. Sun kissed hair. _

He was there. He reached his destination.

The house in front oh him was an average looking building at most. The lights were still on – something Naruto didn't suspect. There were two floors. The house was made out of red brick.

Whisker-marked boy took his straw hat off. He wouldn't need it inside. They wouldn't say a word about him. Dead can't speak after all. He had two possibilities; To go through the window with lights on and kill father and mother – kids were probably sleeping right now – and eliminate the danger of them getting out, or to go through the window on the first floor. The second option was a bit risky, children could scream and make a lot of noise, thus alarming parents – one of them could go for help. First option seemed good enough.

He jumped onto the wall, right above the window he would go through; so silent he was that even birds outside didn't notice him. He became a shadow again. Already, young Uzumaki could feel the amazing coolness of his chakra, the intoxicating calmness and most of all the lack of any emotion that came with his power. His heart rate was steady, his eyes already used to the light that emanated from inside, his right hand was already unsheathing his more preferred blade – Fuyutsuki.

_'Tori, Inu, Uma, Saru, Ryu.'_ Already, the air around his hand was getting colder and he could almost see the particles of water floating around. Quickly, he touched the window and in a matter of few seconds it turned into ice. Oh, how he loved to turn things into ice. Soon, his katana was cutting quickly and quietly through the iced window. The killing would start in a matter of moments.

'_Death. Death and sword. Snow-white sword._

It was over so quickly. He wasn't even aware of his moves. His body like a thrown kunai was – without control. After he came in through the broken window. The things he did there… they just happened.

It was over so quickly. He remembered shouts and shrieks that still echoed in his mind. He remembered father, fruitlessly trying to protect his wife. His desperate attacks, his eyes – eyes of deepest passion and sorrow, because, from the start he knew – _he knew_ that his family wouldn't survive this night. He remembered white katana, blood and death. The smell of death that lingered in the house, the faces of family, blank eyes, stained clothes, and a white ribbon that whirled in the wind. He remembered black birds, yellow lightning and the feeling of white tsuka and the hand guard, pressing tightly to his hand.

He remembered… Even if he tried not to. Girl, not older then him; girl that probably did nothing wrong, girl that was innocent, pure…

He tried to shake his head, hoping that a little gesture would help him forget… But the shadow knew that the things he did today would mark his heart and soul… It didn't matter, though. For him defending the innocent was something worth every sacrifice. It was his purpose in life.

And as he continued to run throughout the labyrinth of roofs, he really didn't know. He didn't know if he was crying or if the rain was simply making him temporarily blinded. He knew however that his legs were getting weaker. He stopped,and said a few words. A few words that were supposed to make everything clear. They didn't. Time after time, He repeated them hoping that everything would make sense. Nothing happened.

'_It's all for better good.'_

He puked.

* * *

Haruka-san, like everyday for the last week, was already waiting for him. She was usually sitting in the kitchen, with a bowl full of rice and a cup full of hot tea. He never had much of an appetite after his missions but you would have to be extremely stupid to reason with Haruka-san. The moment a word "But" would leave your mouth would be a moment she'd hit you with a paper fan that, if his theory was correct, she produced from thin air. She was a nice person, though and no one could oppose that. That was, of course, his conclusion. Yes; a tremendously dangerous, fan wielding, nice, old lady…

"Itadakimasu." He said quietly after sitting down. It was the first thing he did after killing: going to kitchen, sitting down, eating and talking sometimes. They rarely talked; he wasn't in the mood, and she was normally just looking at him. It was something akin to silent communication. She recognized the pain in his eyes – the pain of killing yourself in order to kill others and he was familiar with the longing for someone long dead.

Tonight wasn't much different then any other day. She was sitting on the chair nearby to the window; he was silently eating his late dinner. Neither made a sound.

He didn't know that much about the old lady. The fact that she was the owner of the building that was inhabited by a majority of assassins on the Mizukage's side left little to imagination. It was obvious that she supported them. That was about all he knew. That and her name, which he wasn't even sure, was real.

The young shinobi looked up from his rice to see her green eyes studying his face. She did that more often then not, and the fact that he was used to it worried him out a bit. Trust was something you weren't supposed to give away so generously, especially during times like these. Her face was expressionless, and she looked so old and tired. Naruto knew why she did though, it was easy to tell that even if forty-years old women was looking at him she was, at the same time, looking at someone else. But there was no point in thinking about that.

The young shinobi finished the last part of his rice with vegetables and with a deep sigh he tried to stand up. He succeeded on his third attempt exhaustion getting better of him. He was worn-out, mentally and physically; his legs were shaking, his muscles unable to do what he wanted them to, adrenaline leaving his body, deep blue covered by the darkness of his eyelashes. He saw blood and unnaturally white faces. Opening his eyes, he saw stairs. Stairs he knew very well; he lived upstairs. Then, halfway up he had to close his eyes again his futile attempts were but pathetic and a second later his eyes were closed.

And then he saw it. It had red eyes and maroon hair. It had pointed fangs and whisker-like marks, similar to his. It grinned from ear to ear and then mouthed something.

When he opened his eyes again he saw doors leading to his own room. He was sweating and trembling. Opening the doors he stumbled seeking his futon. He found it the next second and allowed a small smile appear on his face as he lay on his back. It was a cheerless smile. Because the moment he closed his eyes a pair of red ones so much unlike his glared from the darkness.

His breath slowed a bit as his body relaxed. He tried to open his eyes, but they felt so heavy, come to think of it, everything did.

And then he saw those red eyes. The eyes he now recognized. After all he saw them a little less then five years ago, on a day when a human blood and death changed his mind forever, when he was named Kenshin. And then he heard something. It was probably his imagination.

'It's been a while Naruto'

A deep laugh.

* * *

_Chapter 12; The bloodline war Even now, it's not really known why the first civil war started. There are many speculations but the truth is hidden deep down, beneath a thick layer of lies, fear and remorse. De facto the whole matter started on a second day of July. The facts are clear; on about 5:30 am of water country's time, three dozen of Kaguya shinobi attacked Mizukage's tower. The forces of mist; taken by surprise, not really prepared for the attack from inside; lost miserably. On that day only seven shinobi returned alive from the tower and Kiri no Shinobigatana Shichinin Shū was their title ever since. The reason for the attack is, as I already mentioned, unknown but theories are countless. I'm not going to bore you with them however, as most are nothing but myths. The war, quieter then the best of shadows and more precise then any Kaguya alive, was raging on neither side gaining much ground. It was a war unlike any other before – where enemies were unidentified, best of allies were suspected of worst crimes. It was warfare of shadows, Battles of bones and ice. But just like every battle has its beginning, every war has its hero. And even the bloodline war, in spite of all differences, was very much like every other war..._

_ Half a century of Kirigakure's History, by Keiko Arai_

* * *

He opened his eyes.

'Where am I?'

He didn't know. It was bizarre, as he didn't know what time it was, what day it was and was it a middle of winter or the beginning of summer. He had no idea where he was currently residing, or what his name was. His eyes weren't, like usually, reflecting that sharp mind of his. Mindless his orbs were, gray even. Laying there, seemingly nowhere, he tried to remember. Rubbing his sore eyes with the back of his wrists he tried to fight the sleepiness. Oh, how he loved mornings…

'Sunday'

And just like thateverything came back. In one moment – instantaneously. How he wished to forget – to return on the blissful cloud called ignorance. But now wasn't time for depressed moods. Today was Sunday. He didn't kill on Sundays.

'_Time for breakfast.'_ he though.

He slept in his clothes – with his katanas at sides – something he was used to. He rolled his futon, still feeling dizzy, and did a few stretches. Brushing his teeth he looked into the mirror. It was the beginning of fourth week since he entered the water country and one could clearly see the signs of fatigue on his young face – his eyes sporting violet-black rings around them. He rarely smiled these days. He didn't laugh.

Steps. Someone was walking. It took him only a moment to realize that someone was outside the door. He abandoned his toothbrush and with a quick flick of wrist got his white katana into the hand. He turned around on his right leg and was about to attack when someone knocked…

"Ano… Kenshin-san? The breakfast is ready." The quiet voice whispered.

'_It's only Tomoe…' _He removed the sword from the exact spot when the knocks came from. Tomoe; probably the only person he could call a friend, a fellow orphan older then him by many tears.

The first time he met her – on a day of blue rains – on the second day of his arrival things were different then they were now. He saw her with a wooden umbrella, looking small, cold, and dark. So much unlike him – full of hopes he was, full of dreams – but the chocolate orbs of hers mesmerized him, made him think. He didn't.

Now he wasn't much different then her.

When he walked down the stairs the dining was full of noises. Loud laughs, quite sniggers, whispers of gossip. A lot of yellows, blues, even blacks on some occasion. No one wore red. Only Naruto.

Everything became silent when his sandaled feet touched the floor. Everything turned into dark murmur and then, into heavy silence. It was as if his feet weighted tons – making small earthquake and extremely loud noises – every time they touched the wooden floor. He felt heavy too, his arms and legs almost shaking from the pressure. The floor seemed very welcoming suddenly. Every head turned into his direction. Fifteen pairs of eyes stared at him, so different their expressions, yet almost the same.

You're not welcome here. Go away. They always acted like that. They stared and glared, making him darker, smaller, the heaviness increasing every second. But he met their gazes – because even if he was shaking inside, he wasn't outside. Still, he departed quickly.

"The soup is getting cold." Was what Naruto heard first after entering the kitchen. Of course, Haruka-san was up before even the sun was.

"Ohayo Gozaimasu" He answered in a tired tone.

He started eating quickly, his hunger sharpened by the long sleep a good twelve hours of slumber was something that happened rarely – even on Sundays. The soup was full of vegetables, meat and other dumplings from the fridge, but appetite is the best of flavors and so the whole eating was done in a matter of minutes.

"Sooo… Doing anything in particular today, Kenshin?" Uh-ho, she was definitely in a good mood today. It wasn't in the old woman's style to pray into someone's business, not that she was uninterested or impassive, but anything more then a simple _'How are you?'_ was strange…

"Iie, maybe some training. I'll catch up on my reading too…" There was something coming up for him, he could tell. The way Haruka-san's lips twitched the exact moment he finished his sentence…

"Kiri's such a dangerous place these days…" She sighed.

Something about that statement and the way she said it disturbed him greatly. So greatly, in fact, that he was about to interrupt her, change the topic but…

"… Especially for young girls. All these immoral people, hiding around corners, in dark alleys, waiting for an innocent girl to show up…"

"What do you want?" He did interrupt her.

"Tomoe's going to do some shopping today, some groceries, y'know, the usual…" She said with a lot of mirth to her voice. Obviously she was enjoying her current position.

"Dakara… You want me to go with her then?" He knew the answer already, but it couldn't hurt to ask.

"Hai, hai. Plus…" – She stopped there and reaching down to her bosom she continued. – "…It'll do you some good to go around the village once in a while…" – She stopped there too and taking out a small, white envelope she started again. – "… Y'know? You should definitely see the blacksmith, the one on the Hisakata Square." And with that the letter landed on the table. She left not a second later.

_'…'_

He didn't know what to think. Was that some kind of mission? What was in the envelope? Maybe it's just a personal affair and he's nothing more then a messenger? Or is it something else? Too many questions that a simple logic could not answer.

What was he supposed to do? There was only one thing to do in situations like that. He had to do what he was told to do and he would have to find out what there was to find out.

And it was such a beautiful morning just a few moments ago…

'_Chikushou!'_

* * *

They walked around the village. They walked around the village and the day was sunny, warm. The sky was blue mixed with white and some gray. It didn't rain and there was no mist. The weather was nice.

"A lovely day we have, ne? Kenshin?" Tomoe asked with a lot more cheer in her voice then usual. It was probably because of the weather conditions – four weeks he's been here and it was the first day without a mist.

Silence and a slight nod of his whiskered head answered her question. His hands were occupied; left with a wooden basket full of tofu, right with a bag full of rice and vegetables. They were going east – their aim – buying meet.

'It has to be fresh…' He remembered. 'Fresh meet is absolutely necesery' was what Haruka-san said. They were going to buy fresh meet.

"…So what do you think? …Kenshin? Were you listening at all?" She asked – her voice rising a bit. She didn't like to be ignored, he concluded, but then again no one did. He almost spaced out again but gathering his wits quickly he lied smoothly.

"Of course I was." He told her. She was watching him closely, her chocolate eyes looking at his face with a concentration of the highest degree. She bit her lower lip and tried him.

"So what do you think?"

"I think that your new kimono is lovely and there are no words that could describe just how amazing you look." For a moment silence surrounded them and even though there was a lot of people the stillness was almost touchable. He held his breath – the moment he feared finally came. And then everything turned normal and she smiled that brilliant smile of hers that only few had a privilege to see. He was one of the few. He congratulated himself on the save he just made and on his perceptive mind that helped him out – it was a close call.

"You _really_ think so? I was wondering…" He tuned her out knowing too well that she'll be talking all the way down to the market and all the way back. It was freighting really to see her chatting so much – he thought of her as a silent and depressed girl and here she was blowing his opinion away. Then again he shouldn't judge people on their first impression. It could get him killed.

They continued to walk and he found himself in a jovial mood. After a while he was finally engaged in a conversation about the history of Kiri. Tomoe was a very knowledgeable person when it came down to the topic of old times. She talked a lot about that too. And he listened interested; he actually listened and enjoyed himself. He smiled from time to time and he laughed for the first time in the four weeks. A true laugh, not a bitter one, a natural, content laugh.

'It's the weather' he told himself. 'It has to be the weather'.

He couldn't be more wrong.

* * *

_'Even if I didn't know about it then, it all makes sense know – when I look at the situation as an observer not the participant. It took me five months to finally face my emotions. Five months, it took me, five months to figure out what was it that turned my stomach upside down and made me see the colours of world in a new light. So simple, and yet I didn't know what was it that made me happy. Now I know. It was love. It's too late know for she is dead. In my mind however, she will always live with a brilliant smile on her face and a brown kimono and a laughter that I knew not of before I met her. For it was thanks to you, Tomoe that I now know how to smile. You were my sheath – and I was your sword. I don't know a lot about love. Love is like a pear. Pear is sweet and it has a shape. Try to define the shape of pear._

* * *

_Clink! Clink!_

Sparks flew into the air. White-hot steel touched the cooling water with a splash. Steam rose. Drops of sweat stopped on ebony brows. He breathed in the scent of fire and iron and steel and sword. He could feel the heat of fire and the weight of a massive hammer in his right hand.

_Clink! Clink!_

More flickers of light. His muscles ached but he continued to mold the steel with proficiency gained only by years of practice. The strength between each blow was patiently increasing. His hands were flowing with pain but the art of sword making consumed him absolutely and completely. It was the gray metal he saw, nothing else and nothing more. The still not formed sword was the only thing that was on his mind right now.

He finally finished. His tools he put aside and his sword he draped on the wall. Oh, Sunday was a busy day for blacksmiths in Kiri, especially these days. A Sunday; day free from killing, acknowledged by both counterparts in war, no assassinations, no battles, no work for common folk… Only blacksmiths had to work.

_'Talk about fair.'_ – he snorted. The Sundays were all nice and clean, people were happy and even shinobi had a day off. Sundays were untouchable – even the rebelling party knew better then to attack on Sunday. Only blacksmiths had to work.

Because on Monday the slaughter would begin anew and the equipment for the earlier mentioned killers, would not magically appear.

The man narrowed his brows and glared at the wall that the new made sword was strapped to. So unjust, was a life of a blacksmith; full of surprises and hurdles that only few were able to go through. He was about to declare to the whole world that they should be thankful for having such a good blacksmith in near vicinity when he saw a boy.

It was a young boy.

With blond hair.

And blue eyes.

He had two swords – both behind his white obi. He stood on the electricity pole, casting a shadow on the part of his workshop – it was an open space – his left hand rested on katanas he knew, were of good quality. The blond boy was wearing the colours of Kiri – he was dressed in blue and white – in a typical samurai fashion.

The sun was low, almost touching the horizon. The black figure of a youngster disappeared from the electric pole and appeared in front of him. The young guy was smaller then the average his age and his face betrayed nothing. But only one thing cached his eye. The white katana in an equally white sheath.

He saw that sword once, long time ago… He held it in his hand… Years ago… Absent-mindly he rubbed a place on his hand where his little finger used to be.

He inhaled deeply.

His encounter with the sword wasn't nice.

Only then did the full meaning of this all enter his mind.

He took a few hesitant steps back – while still looking at the boy – he sat on a chair and let his head rest on the palms of his hands. His breathing was ragged, loud noise of his short breaths filling the open room. This wasn't supposed to happen. Not during his life. Not ever. It was so surreal…

He closed his eyes and took a mouthful of air. He panicked and it did him no good. Maybe he assumed too much and maybe the sword was simply a very similar one and…

He knew that he was kidding himself, _lying_, to his very own mind. There was only one thing to do.

"Do you have something for me?" his mouth said as his mind was still absent. But the answer was not needed for he already knew.

Nothing happened for a few seconds, no sound or movement whatsoever. Then something remotely smooth touched his hands and that something was a letter. Now, with eyes open, he looked up to the youngster, his questioning gaze held the unemotional of the blond. He's eyes retreated first – looking back to the unopened envelope.

He opened it. He took in sharp breath soon after. For the letter said what he feared it would.

"_The Guardian of all cold is coming. The Winter's moon will arise." _

The blacksmith closed his eyes once again. Too old he was to tell the tale of Hiko Seijuro the first. Too old to speculate about destiny, too tired to think about the meaning of life.

"Sit down boy," – he started with a strict voice that left no argument – "for the tale is long and the night still young."

* * *

When he left the workshop on the Hisakata Square, his head hurt and his heart ached. Three books; good four hundreds pages each were tucked under his shoulder. _"The visions and prophecies of Hiko Seijuro I_" was the first one. A book almost 150 years old, telling a life of Hiko Seijuro I – the founder of Kiri and the creator of Hiten Mitsurugi-Ryu – written by the legendary swordsman himself. The second had no title at all and no author whatsoever. The book, as was explained to him, marveled on all the things that humans (apparently) had no control over, the "laws" of fate and such. The last book intrigued him – _"The seals and how it all begun"_ – by Yuuko Ichihara. The book said a lot of interesting things from what he gathered, for he had yet to open it, as the women was a seal master and tried to explain the theory behind seals.

The moon was high and the night was at its peak. The young boy looked at the moon. So beautiful, so powerful. Naruto could almost sense the connection, this amazing pull and the light shaking of his sword. The winter had yet to come but his katana already responded to the protector of nights. Something was up in the air.

Absent-mindly, he jumped on the rooftop. It was frosty, the wind was weak and barely noticeable but yet, he still enjoyed the feeling of air in his hair. Kiri was truly a magnificent place during night; the lights were on – little yellow points in the darkness – like fireflies they were, and the Silver Tower – also known as the Mizukage Tower, the most beautiful building in all of Mist. A tower with no angles, smooth and round, made of a metal that reflected the moon's light making it seem like it was pure silver. Easily the highest building in Kirigakure – almost twenty stories high, towering in its majesty over other buildings that are nothing but a shadow compared to the Tower of Silver. But at night when the gloom claimed the horizon only the Tower shined with hope, and only through nighttime the silvery mist gathered around it in a spiral pattern, and no one really knew where the mist came from, or maybe they knew but just didn't want to tell the rest because the sight was truly out of this world.

And just like that he stood there not really thinking about war, or destiny, or life, or about all he just learned. He didn't think about the books he had under his arm or about the sword that was supposed to change the world. He didn't think about all that.

Because right now he was looking at the Silver Tower and he believed. He believed in good and bad, in white and black. He believed in humanity and in others. And he believed in himself.

Haruka-san was there when he opened the door to the three-story house he lived in. Naruto narrowed his eyes in anger – it was all planned from the start – he reasoned. He looked at her; her eyes were closed, she was calmly leaning on the wall, yet he knew that she was awake. He took his light sandals off rather hastily, and stormed off to the kitchen not in the mood to talk with the other person in the small room. He was followed however. He didn't care though; because the moment of peace and quiet he had just few instants ago – while looking at the Silver Tower – vanished in a matter of seconds. And then this overwhelming anger flowed throughout his veins, because they actually believed some stupid book written hundreds and fifty years ago.

His small jaw clenched as he held his chopsticks – his knuckles were white – he started to eat. So unbelievably stupid.

He did not make a sound and neither did she. He finished his meal and looked up to meet her eyes, for he was aware of her staring at him like she normally did. She was sad from what he could tell and she knew he was angry and he knew she knew but he still tried to hide it. He stood up.

"I don't even believe in destiny."

He truly didn't.

* * *

That night he was lying in the bed a long time, thinking about the Silver Tower and life and future. About him and what will happen to him. How he will fight for what is right, and how he will fall in love in a beautiful woman – in a future far away – and how she will fall for him too. He thought about all the things that could happen and about all that will. He thought about stars and about moon. He was thinking about lots of things.

Then he fell asleep and everything turned white. There was neither time nor space. Everything was blindingly white and yet there was nothing – only him – and he couldn't see anything and he couldn't feel anything and it was scary.

"Where am I?" The blonde asked shakily. It felt so real – like no dream he had so far. Not the ones he remembered of.

"Ohhh" Deep voice, so inhumanly deep, boomed, seemingly sighing. From everywhere, shaking every hair on his head, the sound reached his ears – deafening him. "It has been such a while since you visited me, that I'm not even surprised you don't remember me." It didn't sound male but it didn't sound female either – making a particularly spooky mixture of passive and gray-like neutral sound.

"Who are you?" The boy asked quietly. Where was he? What was happening to him? Maybe it was genjutsu? Kai! It didn't work. He tried to feel the flow of his chakra only to find nothing. Nothing. Chakra was essential: no chakra – no life. He was about to panic when he heard The Voice. It laughed a rich laugh clearly amused by his disorientation.

"I go by many names…" – The Voice started when the laugher calmed down – "For I am master of stories and legends. I do not know the boundaries of time and space, for my power is limitless and so is my imagination. For I am Third Oldest." The Voice boomed in an intimidating tone.

The time did not exist in a place such as this, that much was true – concluded Naruto, for the words were inextinguishable – sometimes longer then days and occasionally shorter then the shortest of seconds. The bright white light did not subside and his eyes hurt – at least he thought they did – for the pleasure of feeling was not granted in there. But then he could feel something coming, and there was this awful ringing in his ears, that pierced his brain with a needle of high frequency sound. And then this energy surrounded the white abyss, or at least he thought so – for he could feel the pressure that was building up in his chest.

Breathing became very hard duty all of a sudden.

"Take my hand…" His musings were cut short by the urgent whisper of The Voice. Was there a note of fatigue in The Voice?

"Take my hand, boy! Take my hand, before it's too late!" He saw a flicker of black and he tried to move his arm – only to find nothing.

"Sand! Look for the sand!" He searched with his eyes to find sand or something remotely similar and he did but for the little grains of sand which were frighteningly black. Black! They flew straight into his eyes from above – in a neat line – and he could feel them in his eyes. Oh, and what a feeling it was! He turned around in the white void and saw the gray waves consuming the space of pure. Left, right, behind, above and under. He was surrounded. There was no way out.

"Take my hand, you brainless fool!" He took the skeletal hand that appeared over his head. The cool feeling of bone-like fingers washed over his entire body. He did not see white or gray anymore. Only black.

"Remember gray is danger." – Was what the blonde heard before his eyes opened. He really welcomed the sight of his wooden ceiling.

Straightening up in his futon he sighed loudly, wiping out his forehead with the back of his hand. He was soaking wet – his body was shaking uncontrollably. Truly restless his muscles were. He looked over his drenched form with another sigh coming from his lips – this one from pity for himself.

"Another nightmare, huh?" he asked himself quietly, for his breathing was not completely under control.

His nightmare was forgotten.

* * *

He didn't eat much that day. Only a small bowl of rice when Haruka-san left the kitchen – too angry he was to face anyone.

It was Monday night. Nothing of particular interest happened; he exchanged a few words with Tomoe – the brown hair girl tried to lift his mood up a little bit – failing miserably. He read most of the day.

Tonight the killing would start. It was usually during night that slaughter happened, although Kaguyas already tried to attack throughout afternoons; mainly to raise panic among civilians. Of course every attack was quickly dealt with, which did not mean people were any less scared. It was quite terrifying after all, to wake up and see a street full of dead bodies and blood. Yes, sights such as this were almost common by now.

Tying blue bandages around his wrists and hands he looked out of the window. The moon was unusually big. 'Good' he thought. 'There'll be more light'.

Naruto wore blue and white, like every shinobi of Mist did. His eyes were already accustomed to the dark so there was no need for light. The blonde did not take his black cloak – he would not need it tonight, for tonight he would kill his equals. He jumped out off the window on the roof. There was no sound when he moved. Death was following him. It took him fifteen minutes to locate a squad of an enemy. Seven people, a leader and a three pairs.

They were walking on the street, the movement on the roofs would alter anyone – and shinobi of Kiri were not just anyone. Slowly, he followed them, becoming a shadow he was always observing, always watching. Like a predator his eyes were narrowed, they reflected the light of the moon. There was no movement his mind didn't register. The young swordsman saw everything; even the slight tensing of muscles of a leader.

His eyes narrowed. The element of surprise was of outmost importance.

He jumped down on the street, making no sound.

Fuyutsuki was already drawn. The white blade did not reflect light if he didn't want it to. The predator run behind them, they did not notice and he did not want them to. Finally, the crossover would be no further then fifteen meters ahead of them.

Thump! Thump!

His sandals made the sound too loud for his liking but nothing could be done.

He attacked.

Closing the distance between him and the one on the backs he attacked. The one closest to him, probably the weakest one turned his head around and stopped but it was too late. Both of Kenshin's hands were tightly holding the white handle of katana. They tightened a bit. Naruto's blade was already coming down in the slash curving from high above his left shoulder to beneath his right. Neck was his target and he managed to kill the first white head.

The First blood flowed.

His second target was now on his left only few feet away. His right hand was occupied, carried by the force of the first slash. His left hand was free and that's all he needed. The second Kaguya was faster thought and the hand of Naruto's opponent was dangerously close to his head.

Wind blew over blond hair as the young swordsman ducked, his left hand already feeling blue guard of his second katana. He gripped it tightly, loosing the sheath along the way. And then there was a howl of wind.

The second man was dead, left forgotten, with a sword in his neck. Five more left to go.

He sprinted.

They were after him. He was running away: the smartest thing he could do. His wooden sandals made a lot of sound, his breathing was hard. He didn't care, for they would follow him either way. He smelled blood. His legs were slowly giving away, his lungs were on fire.

The footsteps of his enemies boomed in the night. There were no shouts. His speed increased. A small scrap of paper left his hand.

He lost his second blade – he realized – and now he had only one. But they were getting closer, he could feel it in the air, he could hear their breathing, it echoed through the concrete walls. On the crossover he turned right.

He stopped.

'Three' He closed his eyes. He could hear more clearly, his breathing was fast and irregular and he tightened the grip on his katana even more. The plan was dangerous. Very much so.

'Two' His left hand reached towards the white kunai pouch. There was nothing there but a tiny piece of paper no bigger then his hand. He put it on his forehead and a blue glow surrounded it. He couldn't hear a thing.

'One' His left hand made a half seal. When his closed eyes registered a flash he ripped of the silencing seal – something he found useful because there was a boom as well.

He turned around the corner and killed.

They were blinded and deafened, helpless even. Five slashes later and only four people were dead. The Capitan of a seven-man squad dodged his blade. It showed a skill he was not up to par yet. So he jumped on the roof and ran.

He was followed.

An implausible pain. Nothing mattered. There was _nothing_. Only pain. His vision of roof was littered with white dots. Nothing mattered. An overwhelming pain. He tripped on the edge of roof, his tired legs like water. He fell down on the street below – on his left shoulder. The pain unbearable, now doubled in intensity. His eyes were full of tears and so were his dirty cheeks. He was sobbing quietly, whimpering, and there was nothing but pain. His eyes didn't see and his ears didn't hear. He couldn't smell blood – there was nothing. Only pain.

But then he heard.

"What's your name?" It was the Capitan. The palm of his hand was becoming white until the bone ripped through the skin. He had white hair. His eyes were white also. He was leaning against the wall casually.

It was then Naruto knew the truth feeling of fear. Everything went numb. And then he could hear the voice of the past.

"_Tell me your name." Deep, kind voice. Black hair. White cloak. Blue eyes. It was his master._

"_Naruto" He was shaking with fear._

"_A child's name…"- Hiko Seijuro said. Then he continued - "…Too soft for a swordsman. As of today you are Kenshin."_

"_Ken-shin?"_

"_I have found a pupil. Consider yourself fortunate."_

"Tell me your name." The Capitan of a Kaguya squad demanded. He was walking towards him now, slowly, mockingly.

But nothing existed for Naruto. Not even pain. His left arm stopped shaking spasmodically. His grip on the white handle of Fuyutsuki strengthened. The blade was shining white with moon's light. He stood up. His legs were shaking.

'I will survive' Naruto told himself. 'I cannot die.'

The white-haired shinobi smirked. All of his muscles tensed – Blonde could see – in preparations to attack.

"My name…" The young swordsman rasped out. Ten meters was all that stood between him and the white-eyed Kaguya. "…My name…" Naruto's muscles tensed also. There was no power behind them but there was power behind something else.

"…is Kenshin!" There was power behind his words.

The last blood flowed.


	3. Law of surprise

**Uzumaki Naruto****; ****Winter's Moon**

**Charter 3; Law of Surprise  
**

**__________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________**

Mind. Mind is a very complicated, yet simple device. It's full of patterns, thoughts and sensations. It is a very powerful thing, a mind of a person. In a world full of shinobi, where death is common and comradeships are often false mind is the most important equaled only by the body.

Name – a word, simple word, used to identify a person, and object or a place and yet, names carry a lot more power behind them then many gives them credit for. For a human without a name is not exactly human. Even the lowliest of low, slaves, have names.

So, when for the first time, Uzumaki Naruto truly accepted the name Kenshin the unimaginable happened. The power behind the name Kenshin was released and you have to know that this particular name symbolized many things. Power was one of them; courage and passion were second and third respectively. Skill and intelligence both were there also. But it represented something else, something darker and colder. It represented his instincts.

"My name…"

He was predator. He would kill.

Others didn't exist. There were no others.

His sword was a weapon that was meant to kill, not protect, he realized that now and kenjutsu was an art of killing. It was Naruto or his opponent.

He would kill. His terror was gone.

The white haired man that stood in front of him was human, with a hard breathing and flaws in his stance that his beast-like, red eyes could now detect. Naruto, or as he now viewed himself Kenshin changed over these few seconds as he watched the white-haired shinobi walking towards him slowly, mockingly as if to show just how weak Kenshin was. Something clicked; massive dam inside his brain broke loose. He understood now, what his shishou meant – he was innocent, pure – even if he killed there was always some reason, there was always _something_. Afterwards, after every murder he committed, he was hurt and he sealed his emotions, he buried them deep down inside his mind, for it was too much to take for his young and innocent psyche, he always reasoned that it was for a better good, and his cold façade that he used since that fateful day when he was five strengthened. It was a role he played for his whole life, since he first saw death – he was Naruto that played the character of Kenshin – he was always kind and emotional, impulsive, child-like and he always pretended to be a young swordsman, proud, serious, cold but he was never truly Kenshin, he was never truly cold.

He changed.

His eyes turned red, with black slits. Something hot began to stir in his stomach, something – chakra – he realized. The blonde gripped the handle of his white sword more tightly, the blade started to sheen white; illuminating the dark street they were in. Shakily the youth stood up.

"…is Kenshin!"

White met white. Both swords, one made of bone the other made of dream, made a sound that the biggest of hawks would envy. Sparks flew into the air as the blades disengaged the participants of the battle jumped back to their original spaces and both stopped for a while. The young blonde was more dead then alive, barely standing from the blood loss. The White Wolf of Kaguya, one of the strongest from renowned clan was a bit tired from all the running but it was clear that he was the strongest out of two. The white eyes of a warrior were more experienced, his muscles were stronger his moves more calculated, he was better out of two and yet, he could feel it – every moment he looked into young swordsman's eyes, eyes colder then ice – he could feel defeat. Death was looming over his white hair, waiting just like the half-dead blond, for opportunity to strike, when his guard would be down.

These eyes – red – stained with the blood of all his opponent killed were cold. They weren't filled with malice or hatred, no, they held no emotion.

Red-eyed predator disappeared. Flash of white steel. Dull gray of bone – broken. Sounds mended into one, screams of pain, grunts of life that had. Time stopped for a moment as the white blade cut clean throughout his blade made of bone. He tried to dodge but was unable to as the red eyes captured him and he didn't move as the burning white blade cut through his left shoulder reaching past his heart.

All he saw were red eyes of a boy.

White Wolf of Kaguya died in the dark, surrounded by the shadows on the roofs and blood on the pavement, looked down on by the boy with a sword made of dream. He died in a way that warriors of all countries would deem as worthy – he died for what he believed in. He thought it pathetic because he knew that Kaguyas would never win the civil war. Not when the boy with white sword would be their foe.

A moment was not needed and the young boy collapsed on the ground. Veins were pumping fear for only the bravest of all were stupid enough not to fear death. Kenshin was not stupid. He was smart enough to know that the end is close. Calm was all the youth could see.

Dozen of shadows jumped down. One picked him up. The sword that gave him power was left on the ground. It was calling to him, or maybe he was going crazy. But before the blonde entered the land of unconsciousness he said two words. Two words were all he could afford to whisper.

"S-sword… my sword." He entered the land of white and black with a comforting feeling of katana in his hand.

"Take care of the body, and for God's sake clean up this mess!" The one holding Naruto commanded. The tasks were finished in a matter of seconds and the shadows disappeared on the rooftops.

"I'll get him to the hospital, you go ahead!" Another order. Eleven of the twelve vanished in a swirl of water and wind. The leader of Kirigakure's defensive unit was left alone. There were many things on his mind. Soon, he too left with a swirl of water and wind.

'This boy isn't normal.' Thought Momochi Zabuza.

**__________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________**

White was everywhere. All he could smell was white. He was in this place before – he was perfectly confident of that. Last time something happened. Something unexpected…

"So, you've finally used the power you possessed since the beginning…you finally accepted what you are… In such a pretty and dramatic display as well, I was wondering when you'll do that."

Naruto recognized the voice, he was sure he heard it before…

"Musou" The Voice interrupted his musings. Blue eyes turned dull and he remembered his last encounter with The Voice and the white abyss.

The moment he regained the clarity of seeing he found himself laying on the sand. The sand! He recalled it, the sand made him see. His head shot up and around and the shock was evident on his face. It's not often one gets to see the desert of black sand. His orbs looked up – the sky was white and the clouds were gray. There weren't many of them but that was because gray – if he thought correctly – was danger.

"Musou (dream) is my name…" The blonde boy turned around with all the speed he could muster – for he heard The Voice or Musou right behind his back.

There was no one there.

"… and I am Third Oldest." It whispered to his ear from behind yet again.

There was no one there either.

"Show yourself!" The blond shouted – anger masking panic.

Laughter answered him. It came from everywhere and all he could hear, feel or see was laughter. He had no idea how a person can see laugh but in that moment he could and it was petrifying. The now introduced Musou laughed with no mirth, he laughed with madness. The wind picked up the sky turned gray with clouds and shapes that he did not know of before.

It stopped.

Everything, the laughter and the wind. The sky too reverted to white.

He heard the voice again.

"Humans are so predictable, yesss…" – the voice started slowly – "so easy to calculate, mindless creatures…" – it talked really fast now and it was quiet. The deadly whisper was so silent, in fact, that he _really_ had to strain his ears and only bits and pieces did he hear. – "But you…" – it was deeper, more demonic – "You… are different." – so quiet, he almost didn't catch that. The Voice started speaking again.

"You… broke the Law of Surprise. Three times! You're not a mindless monkey at all…! One more time and you'll defeat him…!" It laughed and it snickered and it giggled. Kenshin never really appreciated humanity but he found himself longing for that particular aspect of 'mindless creatures' very much. He was certain that the thing he talked to was not a human at all. A demon – if he would be a judge.

Besides, he tried to memorize everything that was said – for it could be a valuable information and he was definitely at the 'I don't know a thing' end of line.

"Law of Surprise?" His mouth asked. A simple question stopped the crazy giggling at a moments notice. Silence regained. The blonde was about to curse himself but he didn't have enough time.

"Oh, that's right…You don't know…" – he heard – "…how stupid of me, you don't know… how stupid!" – The Voice was… berating itself?

"The Law of Surprise, a custom older then humanity itself, is a price a men who saves another can demand…" – a cold wind swept the black sands of dream – "It is a request of which neither the savior nor the saved one knows what it is, until the man saved returns home." – Musou stopped.

"It was the first law created by _him_" – the word 'him' was spat with so much hatred and anger that a small earthquake shook the desert. Naruto was pretty scared right now. – "And you… You broke that law three times." There was no giggle, which was both calming and frightening. The Voice was utterly unpredictable.

"Your brother?" It was foolish; to ask questions when Naruto's own life was at stake but nothing could be done. 'I _really_ should learn some self restrain'.

"My _brother_… Yesss…" – the stillness and quietness was disturbing. – "For you see… There are seven of us. We're… A _family _of sorts. A very _disturbed_ family." The sands piqued up again like a big cyclone made of black sand and gray clouds. A power of such caliber was far beyond his – but the blonde could not help but touch the silvery-white sword. Nothing touched him – fortunately – he was half certain death would be quick, and half worried it would be slow. Again after a moment or two the typhoon ceased two exist. The wasteland was there – unchanged.

"But enough with meaningless talk and irrelevant explanations. It'll be easier if you see by yourself."

"I'll see?" The previous show of power scared him shitless and the young boy had no intension of 'seeing' of whatever he was about to see. His voice was shaking and his hands were too and his brain was paralyzed. He couldn't think properly.

"Your past, boy, your past." The gentle tone did not fool the boy. The Voice was crazy. Crazy people could kill on a whim – he was pretty sure crazy beings or whatever-they-weres could do so as well if not better. Especially beings with such power.

"Just put the sand you're sitting on into your eyes and think about past."

"That's all?" The idea of sand showing him past seemed a bit unreal, not that he could complain in a situation like that.

"Of course. It's my sand after all… It can make any wish come true – it's a sand of dream. Now hurry up, we don't have all day – the night will come to end soon."

He took the handful of sand, the carbon dark reflecting the white of sky. For a moment he thought that the whole thing was stupid and that it was just a dream. Then he got this pain in the pit of his stomach – a pain that always warns you that something bad is about to happen and the pain you always ignore. With a deep breath he opened his eyes and then poured the blackness into his eyes saying 'Uzumaki Naruto' and 'Past' over and over. He saw.

**__________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________**

They were after him.

He didn't know how many, he didn't know how skilled. Not exactly anyway, there were many of them and they were skilled.

He was almost at the borders of fire country and this was bad. They would send someone to their own village, he was certain they would, with a message that fire country thus Konoha was involved. That was unacceptable because, as Jiraya would say, then and only then the shit would hit the fan.

His mind was occupied, but when his blue eyes caught the sight of the clearing and then the road a plan begun to formulate His legs touched the wooden branch and with a bit more effort he jumped high above the clearing. His pursuers, hot on his trail, were stupid enough to reveal themselves – jumping into the clearing below – thinking him as easy prey, immobile in the air.

Clearly, they had no idea who they were dealing with.

Blonde hai shook in the wind as his jump neared its peak, an unusual-looking kunai already in his hand. A flick of a wrist and the above mentioned kunai was cutting the wind. A few hand seals later there were hundreds of them.

Some of his foes were quick enough to survive. Four or five died instantly. It did not matter. Yellow flash and a second later all were dead except him. Hundreds of kunais disappeared in a gigantic poof of smoke, leaving only the one in front of him. With a sigh he reached for it.

'38 seconds – new record' Konoha's Yellow Flash ignored the nagging voice inside his head that told him something was wrong. Feelings like that were nothing spectacular. Few steps nearer the road his subconscious figured it out. There were eleven bodies. He counted more then fifteen.

The world around him shook, as he was proven right. Lightening bolt, so small, sailed throughout the air with awesome speed and deadly silence. It struck him in the side. Fortunately his reflexes were fast enough to worn him and he avoided lethal injury. Unfortunately, the wound was a major handicap and the pain didn't make the experience more enjoyable at all. It was with a huge doze of effort that he was able to jump onto the branch and move throughout the trees towards the small road. The possibility that they would show themselves was smaller then small but it was a chance non-then less.

'They know the weakness of hirashin!' his mind was racing. It was a simple thing really, his instant speed was useless if he didn't know where his opponents were.

One of Kumo-nin intercepted him before he reached his destination but a small ball of chakra formed in his hand and a shout of _'Rasengan!'_ made a small explosion, hopefully distracting some of others and neutralizing the danger. Almost there he was, when a kunai lodged into his leg – he wasn't able to dodge for it came from left and he wasn't expecting it – trio of shuriken came from right, taking advantage of his distracted state. They struck his back. Souring pain clouded his mind as he staggered onto the road and fall onto one knee – his injured leg too weak to hold his weight.

Four were left – he couldn't see but a shadow of them. Slowly, his hand moved out towards his kunai pouch before he was hit in the back of his head. He tried to lift himself up but his body ignored his despaired commands. Blonde's eyes closed. Darkness embraced him.'

**__________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________**

He felt tired, oh so tired he was! His eyes held closed by a glue of black, lifted. Light! Too much light! Why there's so much light? The flashes of Kuma-nin, the pain. The fact that he was alive.

"I see you're awake" His head whipped out, not that he could see much, but the already regained the ability to differ colours. The colours he saw were black and blue and they were big. The tone was surprisingly gentle.

"Who-" his throat was dry "Who are you?" his left side ached, his right leg and his back ached too. Minato tried to move but after half a minute filled with pain, the concept was not so appealing anymore. He could tell shapes apart.

"Is that the way to thank your savior?" Rich chuckle followed.

"Here, drink up." – strong hand lifted his chin up pouring the liquid, he so needed, down through his mouth. He recognized the taste and was not ashamed to sigh contently.

"That's some good sake you've got there…" A simple statement left the Namikaze's mouth.

"Nothing better then a good sake, ne?"

"Hai, Hai!"

The next few moments were spent in silence.

"So who are you anyway?" Asked Minato – his curiosity surfacing.

"My name's Hiko Seijuro, and who may you be?"

"Namikaze Minato is the name and your talking to the next Hokage!" Truth to be told the wondering swordsman knew whom he was talking to. The picture of Namikaze Minato was in every bingo book Kumo possessed. Iwa too.

"You are fortunate. If not for me you would be dead… or worse."

The future Hokage didn't deny that. It was only logical that if Kumo or Iwa would catch him he would be tortured, healed, tortured and killed at the end.

"What do you want, then?" Namikaze Minato asked again. His mind was fast.

"Hmmm…?"

"Well, nothing is free in this world, everything has its price. It would seem only logical that you would request some kind of payment. After all you saved my life, ha, you probably saved many people. Imagine what Kumo would do with Hirashin in their hands…" The blonde wondered with his imagination. It was a good thing the swordsman saved him.

"…In gratitude for saving my life, I will give you whatever you desire of me."

The wind bellowed. Leaves were flying in the air. The forest hushed.

'I shall see if fate is kind to me.'

"You will grant me whatever you had left at home without knowing or expecting it."

The deal was sealed by a handshake.

'A pretty stupid request' Minato thought 'of all the things he could ask for, he asked for a thing like that, probably a new furniture Kushina bought.'

**__________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________**

They spent the next few days talking, in Minato's case resting, for there was no rush now – the danger was gone. Hiko decided that he would go with Minato – he has never been in Konoha before and from the many stories he heard from his companion it was a village worth seeing.

They liked each other. Namikaze was usually the talkative one, he filled the silence, while the black haired swordsman listened. They didn't have much in common but there was a bond forming between them. Friendship of sorts. Main topics of many discussion were warfare, woman and how impossible it is to understand them and sake. Both liked sake very much. Oh, these drunken nights.

**__________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________**

When they entered Konoha – eight days after the attack things were about to get complicated. Minato talked to Hokage – giving him a scroll and telling the tale of what happened to him. He met with Hiko in a diner called… 'something, something dango' as the blonde remembered it.

"It's not much."

"It's not much! Did you look around at all?! What about Hokage monument! It _has_ to be impressive."

"Nope." A small smirk was shaded by black hair.

"What the hell do you mean no?!" Namikaze Minato asked/yelled.

They were about to enter his and Kushina's house.

"That's exactly what I mean: nope. Which part of the word 'nope' don't you understand? Hmm? Is it 'op'?"

"Aaaa! You're driving me crazy!!"

When Kushina opened the door beautiful smile graced her lips, for she was her future husband trying to pull his hair out of his head and a tall man – probably his friend. The mysterious men, she would be introduced to in a minute, gave a small chuckle and she herself was giggling too.

That's when Minato noticed her – stopping his foolishness at a moments notice – giving her a small grin and a 'Hi there'.

She didn't care though, for the moment he introduced his friend – Hiko Seijuro – she said something she would regret for a long time.

"I have a great news!" She shouted out of blue when they entered the small house.

"Ohh? And what may that be?" Her boyfriend asked a small smirk already on his face. He took hold of her and threw her in the air. She giggled.

"I'm pregnant! It's a boy!"

The thing that Namikaze Minato had left at home without knowing or expecting it was his own child.

That very moment, the law of surprise bonded the unborn child and a wondering swordsman. Nothing spectacular happened, no fireworks, no chakra and yet Hiko Seijuro had no doubts.

Fate was kind to him.

**__________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________**

He left few hours later, after explaining what needed to be explained and saying what needed to be said. His words waren't taken kindly, which was not surprising, but they were considered with logic and a lot of thought. Namikaze Minato was a hornouable man; he would keep his word even if it meant giving his son up.

The swordsman would return when the child would become five. His successor would be old enough to learn but young enough to forget. With that in mind Seijuro walked out of the villages walls.

It was the first day of winter.

**__________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________**

The shinobi moved with grace among the shadows. The village of Konoha was still alight with various lamps and stars. Unnoticed he was, moving through streets, avoiding patrols and people in general.

Kumo-shinobi could not be noticed his forehead protector left in his home. The mission had to be completed and there was no place for mistakes.

Orphanage was poorly protected and his job was that much easier.

He entered through the window.

His steps were soundless and so was his breath – an elite such as him would not fail. Tall man opened the door slowly; this move too was soundless, and moved through the labyrinths of small beds, each occupied by a young boy or a girl.

In that moment a boy of three was supposed to wake up from a nightmare with a scream. Kumo-shinobi was supposed to be killed a minute or so after. Two years later that same boy was supposed to be taken away from the village by a wondering swordsman – Hiko Seijuro – for they were bonded by the law of Surprise the very first law Destiny made upon seeing humans. But the blonde boy didn't wake up; the whisker-marked child did not make a sound. The boy was dreaming and only Musou, the third Oldest controlled the land of dreams and the master of stories took a likening to boy.

Not many had such amazing dreams, dreams as pure as pure can be and so the boy slept, not moving an inch except a slight rising of his chest. Plans carefully made by Myou – the First Oldest also known as Destiny – would be broken, because only Musou controlled the land of dreams.

The shadow loomed over him and blue eyes of youth opened. Very funny voice woke him telling him that 'Gray was danger'.

Hand touched his forehead and the boy shut his eyes again the genjutsu already taking effect.

The same Kumo-nin disappeared above the village walls ten minutes later with a bundle on his back.

'Mission completed'

_The law of Surprise was broken for the first time, by a child of three with pure dreams._

**__________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________**

Kumo-nin entered the borders of his country within three days of travels. Fortunately the kid on his back did not wake once, genjutsu holding the blonde strong. Shinobi stopped for a night, staying in one of many caves Lightening country was famous of. He ate and he went to sleep – thinking that the three years old child would not break from the genjutsu induced sleep, experienced shinobi didn't even bother to tie the child.

He would be right but the lands of dreams were controlled by Musou – the Third Oldest – entity impressive enough to be called God that took a great likening in the three year old.

And so the blonde boy woke up, opening his big, blue, innocent eyes.

'Don't make a sound.' There was a Voice in his head – it was the funny voice that often sang him lullabies when he dreamed.

The boy didn't make a sound – knowing that the Voice was usually right. There was something in his right hand and looking down on it he noticed small rucksack that fitted his hand perfectly, containing only handful of whatever it was containing. He also had to pee pretty badly.

'Sand. Take a handful and make a wish.'

Youngster stood up slowly and opened the tiny sack that contained black sand. This was enough to wake shinobi who was sleeping soundlessly. With a speed that blond boy couldn't even comprehend the ninja started to go throughout hand seals to make another genjutsu that would 'help' the kid go to sleep.

Naruto shrieked, scared. The shriek carried down the mountain they were on alerting lots of animals.

Genjutsu was finished and the shinobi covered Uzumaki's mouth with one hand and touched the blonde's forehead with the other, not at all concerned by the shriek or by the petite bag in youngster's hand.

Blue mist started to fill boy's vision and he felt so sleepy, but the Voice spoke to him waking him up instantly.

'Blue is illusion.'

Kumo-nin already left the boy, thinking him asleep, big man's hands leaving Naruto's skin.

It was too late though, because now gray mist started to fill future swordsman's sight – not unlike the blue mist before and he heard the Voice yet again.

'Gray is danger.'

Trusting the Voice completely and knowing that he wasn't safe, panicked boy took a handful of sand, tossed it into the air with his small hands and said a wish.

"I wanna' go some place safe."

Kumo-nin turned around hearing his voice, thinking that maybe his genjutsu was broken yet again.

The whisker-marked boy was gone and the cave was left empty – only one lone shinobi standing in it.

Ten minutes later a wondering swordsman named Hiko Seijuro entered the cave. He was supposed to see a shinobi holding a child, obviously trying to subdue it. He was meant to kill the nin and train the child named Uzumaki Naruto. He was supposed to do that and a lot more.

_The law of Surprise was broken for the second time, by a child of three with courage to step into the unknown._

**__________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________**

There was snow everywhere. He was cold, his whole body was shivering, his toes and fingers ached with a stinging pain and he could do little as he was tired. His strength was taken from him, not that he had a lot of it in the first place.

Slight weight reminded him of minute sack in his right hand and of the black sand that transported him here. He took whatever was left from it – only half of a handful and said his second wish.

"I don't want to be cold anymore."

His body temperature cooled and he wasn't cold.

Kekkei genkai called Hyoton, more commonly known as Ice Release developed in his young body.

Uzumaki Naruto would never be cold again.

He was found two days later, by a group of slave traders. They weren't cruel, they gave him food and they made sure he survived – they weren't emotional either, it would be a shame if their future meal ticket would die.

Over a time of weeks the young boy stopped dreaming, the Voice that saved his life stopped speaking to him and by the time he was five, when he was finally caught in the webs of Destiny, on that fateful day when Hiko Seijuro finally accepted him as his apprentice, the Voice was no more then his imagination. The most important thing was that he survived.

**__________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________**

The blonde was arguing with his shishou. Kenshin remembered this particular fight, for it was there where his journey began. He watched from above – just like God would or so he imagined it would. He didn't hear sounds this time, only movements – him waving his hands with great passion and his teacher who was shaking his head, because he knew there was no stopping him now.

Then he could see himself jumping out of the window and rushing through the woods.

_The law of Surprise was broken for the third time, by a child of ten with heart to protect innocent._

**__________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________**

He was kneeling on the desert of black sand; his breathing was hard, tears rolled off his cheeks, every breath filled his lungs with unpleasant fire, every inch of his body was aching, itching…

So many questions he had, were the things he saw real? His father… Yondaime Hokage and his tomboyish mother… The law of surprise… His shishou? Did he really meet the Voice before, did it really save his life? …so many question and no answers. But maybe…

"Are you- Are you God?" He asked in between breaths. He was tired, unbelievably so, but this was the only place Uzumaki Naruto could expect answers to questions he was about to ask.

"No, and although my power is limitless I cannot use it. All the sand you see, all this is mine-" the blonde looked around still breathing hard trying to figure out why someone would brag about possessing wasteland. Apparently the Voice could also read his mind. "-the sand, boy, the sand… Dozen grains of this sand can make almost every whish come true… Mere handful could cause destruction of the entire world if you so whished! Imagine! Think for a while and imagine just how much power these sands posses! And yet… and yet-" the Voice stopped its rant and reduced to whisper. "-I cannot use this power, power that I rightfully deserve."

"How did something like that happen?" Blonde voiced his concern.

"That-" The Voice boomed "-is a wrong question. The question you should ask is-"

"How will we get around that…" Boy whispered. Puzzles started to fall into their primary places, the Voice saved swordsman's life twice, the Voice gave him Kekkei genkai and now the repayment was in due. It was clear – he could see the whole picture now – Uzumaki Naruto would make sure to repay his debt. It wasn't even the question of honor, it was the simple fact that the boy doubted that this entity would left him alive if 'no' would pass through his mouth. Kenshin doubted it very much.

Laugh filled the desert. This time it was more calculated, more intelligent laugh, deeper compared to the high-pitched voice of madness he met so far. This laugh was sane.

"You are wise… But the power of this sand is strictly connected to the person asking wishes… In other words you would not be strong enough to free me from this prison of weakness. No… we will wait for now. Meanwhile take the sack that's behind you and fill it with three handfuls of sand. You can do with them as you wish."

He did what he was asked to do, quietly and quickly, shivering slightly at the though that the Voice probably saw him as the small rucksack he now held in his right hand. Just like before it appeared to be the colour of dull brown. The blond was about to ask a volley of questions but Musou interrupted him.

"Take a dozen or so grains and wish to remember all the things you learned here… and then go. The time is running out."

He complied and without a minute of waiting his eyes opened and he felt a lot worse then he did before.

Light awaited him.

**__________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________**

In the dark room Momochi Zabuza stood in front of the rest. Overall there were eight of them in the dark, spacious room – Mizukage, and Seven Swordsman of the Mist – and only Zabuza stood, rest was sitting, only Zabuza talked; rest was listening.

It took him half an hour to gather them all together, another half to actually allow him to talk and ten minutes of report what he saw. He gave them his all: opinions he had, dry facts and the history about the boy and boy's abilities he was able to collect over the night. He finished finally, waiting for an answer or some kind of response.

Mizukage's voice cut through the tension that accumulated during those few seconds of waiting.

"So… Kenshin-" The voice of Kiri's strongest shinobi was deep and powerful. "-he's living with Haruka, does he not?"

"Indeed he does." Answered Kirigakure no Kijin – Zabuza Momochi – with utmost respect not a few seconds later.

"Very well. It's obvious that the boy has a potential that I have underestimated before but no longer shall I continue to make that mistake. From this day on he will be trained properly but one of you. Any volunteers?"

The room once again was silent until Demon of the Hidden Mist raised his voice.

"I would like to train him. I believe that the art of silent killing would suit him well and I already know a lot about him."

"And so it shall be. From this day on you will carry the task of training the boy, his missions will be canceled and your place as the leader of Kirigakure's defensive unit will be replaced. I will check his progress every fifth day of every new month."

He stood up with power and dignity that only the man of Yondaime Mizukage's caliber could muster while standing up.

"The meeting is adjourned."

All of them left except Momochi Zabuza who smiled slightly under bandages covering his face. Oh, the life would only get more interesting from this day one.


End file.
